Father of Mine
by fireun
Summary: rated for a foul-mouthed Ed. interaction between Hohenheim and Ed. post series. spoilers as a result. "It was an awkward tableau, though to any casual observer it would seem as natural as any morning setting..."
1. Father of Mine

_Disclaimer - FMA is not mine. at all. unfortunately._

_well, people requested i do some more Hohenheim and Ed writing. and this is what happened. POSTSERIES. no real spoilers apart from the location, which i dont really go out and state, but it is still slightly spoilerific.lyrics are from "Father of Mine" by Everclear. unbeta'd, as usual. anyone wanna volunteer for that job? -fireun_

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_**"Father of mine  
Tell me where have you been  
You know I just closed my eyes  
My whole world disappeared"**_

It was utterly bizarre, completely non-intuitive, waking up and knowing that his father had created the smell of breakfast cooking that gave the morning aira homey sort of ambiance. The oddity was not the out of character action of his father being domestic; it was the mere presence of the man. There was something depressing about realizing his absence was more familiar than presence.

Ed stretched, loath to crawl out of comfortable blankets into what was sure to be a rather chill autumn morning. "Damn cold, wet city…" he muttered before finally succumbing to the enticing scent of fresh coffee. Coffee must have been created by someone grumpy to have to be awake some cold morning years ago. It made perfect sense. Wincing at the way flesh pulled at cold uncomfortable prosthetics, Ed hauled himself out from the comfort of two quilts. It was rare he made it to bed, much less managed any decent amount of sleep.

Pulling on pants and pulling shut the shirt he had slept in he listened to the sound of Hohenheim move around the kitchen, and couldn't help a crooked sort of dark smile. "If he has been in there long enough to actually cook, it is about time for him to break or burn something. I swear, the man is as bad cook as he is a father. Attention span of a butterfly on a caffeine overdose."

His mother had been an excellent cook, always knowing exactly what her young son and husband had wanted and knowing the perfect way of making it. Ed had tried for years to mimic that masterful menu, and while he had fallen short, he liked to think he was at least a passable cook. After that bastard old man had left…well, someone had to help mother around the house. He might not be a domestic genius, but he was definitely far above the bastard trying to win some affection through ineptly prepared breakfast.

_**"Father of mine  
Take me back to the day  
When I was still your golden boy  
Back before you went away  
I remember the blue skies, walking the block  
I loved it when you held me high  
I loved to hear you talk"**_

It was an awkward tableau, though to any casual observer it would seem as natural as any morning setting. Hohenheim sat across from his son, reading a paper and munching on toast liberally dosed with jam so as to cover the charcoal flavor. Ed sipped coffee, declining to even attempt toast that smelled like Mustang after a particularly busy day. The casual observer would have missed the set to Ed's jaw, the intermittent clenching and unclenching of facial muscles that had nothing to do with drinking bitter coffee. The casual observer would fail to notice the fact that while Hohenheim was most definitely looking at his paper, he was not paying it any attention. He was working out how to attempt conversation with his son.

"How is your research going?" There. That was a neutral enough topic…

He withdrew that opinion as soon as Ed turned flashing gold eyes in his direction. "Why? Want me out of here so fast, old man?"

Hohenheim wanted to flinch. Or smack that glaring face. He didn't quite know which would result in the less destructive reaction. Option three then, be a man about it and pretend it never happened. Or hurt. "Why don't you have some toast? Strawberry jam was your favorite when you were young. It was hellish to find some this time of year."

It was Ed's turn to want to hit the other man. He hated it when Hohenheim brought up the past, when everything had been perfect and good. He hated remember tussling with his father outside the house while mother worked in her garden; he hated the laughter, the smiles, the embraces. "What the hell do you care, bastard? You're the one that fucking left. For all you know I could hate strawberry now."

Hohenheim's face grew shuttered after Ed's outburst, falling back into a neutral familiarity between vague acquaintances as opposed to the sort of desperate warmth it had contained previously. "I apologize. I should have asked. If strawberry is not to your liking let me know what is so I may remedy the situation."

Changing jam flavors isn't going to fix shit…Ed wanted to say it out loud, wanted to start a fight…but instead, for some reason took a long drink of still too-hot coffee, and concentrated on the ache in his shoulder. "I need to bathe. Arm is driving me nuts today. Hot water should help." He muttered, pushing away from the table.

It cost Hohenheim the world to nod impartially, but he did, for anything more would have set off another, most likely more vicious, argument.

**"**_**Father of mine  
Tell me where did you go  
You had the world inside your hand  
But you did not seem to know  
Father of mine  
Tell me what do you see  
When you look back at your wasted life and you don't see me"**_

Ed soaked, the perfect bliss of a hot bath ruined by the look that had been in Hohenheim's eyes. He had seen the same brand of unhappiness in Al's when they had quarreled, in his mothers when he had shouted about hating the then absent Hohenheim. It was an aware, powerless sort of hurt, one that was denied words through its very nature. There was nothing that could be said. That bastard shouldn't be able to _look _like that. He had left his family. He deserved every word shot at him.

Ed sank deeper into the tub, exhaling bubbles into the water. Baths were sacred, not at all meant for sulking in….it wasn't fair. With a resigned huff he stood, letting the water run off him in steaming rivers. Not only had that bastard ruined his family; he had now ruined his bath.

Toweling off then angrily dressing Ed stomped his way back to the kitchen, needing to snarl at _something_. Never mind his stomp didn't contain the sure authority it had back where he belonged; where automail actually worked and he had Winry to keep it is top shape. He was irate, and being irate involved stomping. It was a time-honored way of showing ones displeasure.

He made it to the kitchen, opened his mouth to snarl at the old man, and stopped, mouth stuck hanging open in dumbfounded silence. There, on the table next to Ed's coffee cup (which Hohenheim had apparently not washed in case Ed wanted the remainder of his coffee) was a bottle and a note.

'_Salve for your shoulder muscles. Rub some on the leg as well, just in case. Went to get some more, as I am positive this will help with what the cold weather is doing to you. –H.'_

Ed had snapped at him, fought with him, and the man went to purchase medicine for him? Where was the damn logic in that? Hell, Mustang made more sense! Ed slumped into his usual chair and glared at the salve. What did that damn man want from him? They were good as strangers…no, worse. They had the memories of a life that had been ruined, and they were both constantly thinking back on that whenever they saw each other, trying to measure what they had lost against what they had.

"Which is a piss poor comparison." Ed snapped, shoving the salve aside.

The sharp movement stressed the already aching muscles of his shoulder, causing them to convulse and cramp, bringing tears to Ed's eyes. He hunched down, clasping his limb to his stomach in an attempt to loosen the strain on those abused muscles. Not at all the proud, strong front he wanted to present Hohenheim. When the man entered, he attempted to straighten, to ignore muscles screaming with pain.

"You should have soaked longer." Hohenheim's voice was quiet, patient.

"Shut up old man." Ed growled.

"Did you use the salve?"

"What does it look like to you, genius?"

Ed wanted him to leave, so that he could hobble to the safety of his room, but Hohenheim didn't leave, instead he moved closer, kneeling beside the young man and peering at his face in concern. "Go away!" Ed snapped, using his usual defense- anger.

Hohenheim paused, considering, and then settled one large hand on Ed's good shoulder for a brief, solid instant of contact, then stood. "Rub the salve into the sore areas twice a day until the weather settles into winter. It is the temperature changes that are making the muscles ache."

"I know that, bastard."

Hohenheim cracked a crooked sort of smile, nodded once, then made himself scarce so Ed could uncurl and take care of his pain in relative privacy.

"The hell are you smiling at, you bastard?" Ed muttered, grabbing the bottle of salve and making his way slowing back to his room.

_**"I never understood you then and I guess I never will"**_


	2. Lost and Damned

_since people again asked...here is some more Hohenheim and Edward angst and such. methinks this might be it though. unless some real spectacular inspiration hits. it seems...done.lyrics are from "Lost and Damned" by Kamelot.-fireun_

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_**"Don't ask why  
Don't be sad  
Sometimes we all  
Must alter paths we planned  
Only try to understand  
I want to save you  
From the lost and damned"**_

Hohenheim stared at the place at the table his son should have been, had the young man not just stormed out in the disjointed gait which signaled intense unhappiness. Edward demanded things that his body could not grant him in this place where automail what a mechanics wet dream as opposed to a common reality. This resulted in a limp that was painful to watch as Edward forgot his current handicap in favor of being angry.

It had been a particularly magnificent spat, a rather unnecessary rehash of things past, mistakes and choices made which nothing could be done about. It was the past. No matter how unpleasant, how distasteful or idiotic, it was the past, and had to be tolerated as such.

The elder Elric wondered what the hell to do with his unwilling son. Hell, the boy wouldn't even call him father. At least not while awake…There were nights when Hohenheim would be woken by the sound of his son thrashing in bed, calling for his mother, for Alphonse, for his father, in such a broken, terrified voice…Those were the times he could slip into Edwards room, delicately soothe him back to sleep without waking, caressing a finger down the bridge of his nose until the wrinkles eased from his forehead and breathing steadied. It had been the only way to get a much younger Edward to sleep so many years ago. Even in all the pain and anger between them, it still managed to lull Edward into a more pleasant place, perhaps where he could imagine his mothers arms around him, being rocked gently…or his fathers beaming smile.

"I couldn't have stayed…" Hohenheim snarled at the empty seat. "How the hell could I have stayed? Would you have had be let Trisha watch me _rot_? How would you have taken that? Would it have made you _happy_?"

"No, but you could have fucking tried…"

Ah, so Edward hadn't wandered as far as usual. Hohenheim stood, knocking his chair back in a nasty scratch of wood against wood. "Tried what, Edward? To make some last minute, brilliant alchemical discovery that would have made it all better?" He turned, fixing his intense stare on his son.

"Yes." Stubborn, oh his son was so stubborn…

"What the hell do you think I was trying to do all those years? Why I spent so much time with my books?"_ The musty smell of books, mixing with the delicious aroma of Trisha cooking, the shrill laughter of his toddler son…the weight of time slinking past…_ "Did you find the philosophers stone so easy to discover and create?"

_**"Don't forget what we had  
But let me save you from the lost and damned"**_

Not even Edwards brand of stubborn could hold steady in the face of that. He had seen a philosophers stone created, had seen the aftermath…had spent years chasing it. His face fell, collapsing out of anger fueled by a stubborn drive into a desperate sort of unhappiness. Damn but he needed something to be angry at; something to focus on…it was a pain when the target of his ire did not cooperate. "Bastard…"

"There are other ways of referring to me that aren't quite as unpleasant." Hohenheim sighed, another old, dusty argument. It seemed the day for them. Edward must have had a particularly fruitless study of ways to get back across the gate. "For what its worth, we are family. You didn't mind so much a few years ago…"

"A few? By your count maybe, old man." It was a feeble attack, lacking any sort of heat, as Edward plopped into his chair with a snort or derision. "Some of us have not been around for a handful of lifetimes."

"Don't remind me. I am starting to creak." Hohenheim settled back into his own chair, reclaiming his mug of coffee.

"Starting? Your hearing must be going as well, cause I have been hearing you creak since I smacked you back in Rizenbule." Edward chuckled lightly, wondering how exactly to get his coffee back to a drinkable warm and not the pathetic tepid it was currently…

"Maybe you shouldn't hit people that hard." Hohenheim retorted, pondering whether or not Edward would get angry again if he attempted to get him a new mug of coffee…

"Hey, old man, creak over to the stove and get me some more to drink. You got me so pissed earlier that I let my coffee get cold."

"Aren't you supposed to respect your elders?" Hohenheim hauled himself to his feet.

"Only if they earn it. Our Master, now there was someone to respect. She kicked it into us until we weren't going to forget it."

"So I should have taken a belt to you when you were younger?" Hohenheim cocked an eyebrow, a smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

"No, bastard! That is not at all what I am saying!"

"Well, I wouldn't have been able to hit such a small child…"

"Who are you saying is so small that a villain wouldn't even bother to attack!" Edward growled.

"Would you like some milk in your coffee?"

"Damn it, pops, you KNOW I take it black."

An awkward sort of truce declared over shared coffee and verbal wounds. It was a ritual as familiar as the anger itself; snarl, pause, then the little placations like shared drinks and maybe a walk through town, neither ever completely comfortable with the others presence.

Edward would rub at the juncture of arm and prosthetic, and Hohenheim would track one powerful hand along his shirt, tracing the path of dying flesh hidden by long sleeves. That feeling of time almost sitting and waiting still lingered, watching patiently for him to falter. He knew it. And just as it had been so many years ago, he wanted nothing more than for his son to be gone before it got much worse. The last thing he wanted was for Edward to watch another family member waste away and die. He wanted his son to find a way home…almost as much as he wistfully wanted Edward to look back at him and smile. Just once. He wanted his _son_ back, and then he wanted him gone.

Thankfully Edward continued as he always had, walking to his fathers left, and a little in front, never once looking back to make sure the man was still there.

_**"Leave me behind  
Don't look back  
Because deep within you know  
I'm lost and damned"**_

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_**maboroshi hime **- sometimes i want a beta. just to check on structural things. like grammar, which is the bane of my existence. i know how i want the sentences to look...grammar just usually tells me that it is not possible. ah well. i am glad you liked. i reaaaaaaaaaaally like writing hohenheim and ed ficlets/drabbles. some good conflict and interaction to try and make sense of._

_**Pickles** - since you liked the first bit, i worked on a little more. i hope it is all right!_


	3. Sway

_lyrics are from "sway" by lostprophets. dont have an intro for this one. sorry! hope you enjoy! -fireun_

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**_"To all the fights I've conquered and beyond  
The times have changed and I will now move over slowly...  
The truth is I still feel lost without you  
Hard to find a new soul  
The silence takes its toll…"_**

There was a hypnotically depressing pattern to the rain. It wasn't even a proper downpour, more of a sullen piddling onto the roof. It was incessant enough to have turned the streets into muddy rivers as the rainwater carried all sorts of human trash and treasure down the cobblestones and dirt.

All in all, it was utterly depressing.

Hohenheim was trying to study the book held open before him, he was trying to pay attention to the philosophical, sociological diatribe, but his son kept distracting him. It wasn't as if Edward was actually doing anything, in fact, he was merely hunched over his own well-worn volume, mouth moving as he silently argued mathematical concepts with himself.  
It was the young mans presence. The fact that the way he tilted his head just so when concentrating hard reflected the way a certain young woman had posed when thinking something over, before breaking into the most stunning of smiles…

"If you want something, ask." Ed muttered without moving his attention from the equation currently causing him trouble. "I can feel you staring at me. It is making that spot between my shoulder blades itch."

"Pardon me." Hohenheim muttered, shoving his face back into his book, almost literally this time.

"What's eating you?" Ed shut his book with a musty thunk, looking up at the man sitting across from him. "You know, apart from the usual." He waved an almost embarrassed hand in Hohenheim's general direction.

Hohenheim had a choice at that moment. He could let the instant pass, this tiny instance in time where his son was willingly showing an interest in his well being, or he could allow for a bit of vulnerability. Well, noble things were never easy, as was apparent in the way Ed was showing a surprising and sudden interest in his thumbs. Ah well. Better to cough it out before the moment noticed that they were getting along and decided to move before some cosmic balance was disturbed. "I miss her." He breathed, more a sigh than actual speech, but it was all he could manage.

**_"Just sway  
You don't know...  
Just sway  
You don't know...  
Just sway  
And all you want is to find home...  
_**_**Theres a light pausing  
Feel the volume of the sky  
Mark your place in time with another question why..."**_

Hohenheim could tell that was not at all what Ed was expecting. Golden eyes jerked up to meet his in a sort of bemused shock. "You left!" Anger was forming in there as Ed latched onto an argument he knew well.

"You did ask." Hohenheim replied, his voice heavy with a dry sort of humor.

"Yeah, but that is just a weird answer." Ed huffed, reopening his book.

"You have her eyes, you know, and a few of her mannerisms."

Startled, Ed slammed his book shut, turning a sort of terrified look on his father. "Stop staring like that! It's creepy!"

"I'm not staring."

"What the hell are you doing then!"

Hohenheim had to smile at the almost shrill tone to his son's exclamation. It was always interesting to catch the young man off guard. "I am merely contemplating."

"Contemplating. Like hell. If you wanted to 'contemplate' that much you would have stuck around."

"We have had this conversation."

"I know. And it never really settles, does it?" Ed tried, again, to return to reading, but appeared to be staring blankly at the numbers and symbols on the page in front of him, pencil poised in a futile attempt to appear productive.

Hohenheim glanced back down at his book, realizing with a crooked grin that he had been dutifully going over the same page for about an hour and he still had not really read a word.

"Hey…old man…"

"Hmmm?" Hohenheim didn't give in, didn't look up…allowing Ed the artificial distance that made dealing with his father easier for him.

"Could you….ah, would you tell me what she was like, mom that is. When I was little. I mean, I remember her fine after you left and all, and I remember stuff from when I was little…but how was she? When you met…back then…"

Hohenheim did smile then, and although it was a wide, beaming expression, it was definitely much more wistful than happy. "Edward, I would be more than happy." He closed his book and settled back in his chair, thinking. "Lets see…back when we met, hmm? Well then…I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I told you it was love at first sight and we walked off into the sunset?"

"Pull the other one, you bastard." Ed grumbled.

With a grin Hohenheim rested his chin on his fist, settling in for a long session of 'back before you were born'. It was raining after all. What else was there to do?

"**_Just sway  
And all you want is to find home..."_**


	4. Rain

_not a songfic, like the rest of the set, and a bit shorter, but same setting/continuity as the other three, so it works. was part arequestfromhime1999, and part a trade for hime1999 to draw me a pic for one of my drabbles. enjoy! -fireun_

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It was raining. Ed could tell long before he was awake enough to actually hear the water pounding on the roof over him. He could feel it in the way he wanted nothing more than to burrow deeper into his blankets and fade happily back into unconsciousness, he could feel it in the way his joints ached and pulled as he rolled over.

Damn, he hated the rain. And now he was aware of the fact the moisture in the air was making the joints where prosthetic and flesh met ache, making it impossible for him to curl back up and simply ignore the day. With a groan he hauled himself upright, pulled on a pair of pants, and hobbled his way to the kitchen in search of food. And coffee.

"I look like an old man, creaking along like this…" Ed muttered, peering around the kitchen. There was coffee, a plate of toast, a folded paper…but no Hohenheim. "Old man?" he called, wondering where the old bastard could have gotten to at such an ungodly hour. Getting no answer, he decided unguarded toast meant free game, and snagged a piece, showering crumbs onto the floor as he munched, attempting to poor coffee at the same time with his good hand.

A blast of cool air and the creak of hinges announced the arrival of Hohenheim. Gooseflesh pricking to attention all along his bare back, Ed turned to look at his father over his shoulder, half a slice of toast in his mouth.

"Put a shirt on, Edward. You're going to catch a cold." Hohenheim shook moisture off of his coat with a distasteful grimace. He was no more fond of the current weather than his son.

"Jus' got up." Ed managed around his toast, to his credit only losing a small spattering of crumbs in the process.

With a snort, Hohenheim made his way into the kitchen, plopping his coat over Ed's shoulders as he passed on his way to the coffee. Startled, Ed dropped the remains of his toast and caused him to slosh coffee over his hand as he jerked. "What the hell was that for!"

"If you don't keep warm you will get sick." Hohenheim explained in a rather sedate tone of voice, snapping his newspaper open with a practiced motion. "That and the warmer you are, the less your joints will hurt."

Ed harrumphed, slurped coffee off of his hand, and settled in his usual chair at the table, across from the silent Hohenheim. At least the man had the decency to ignore the way Ed arranged himself deep into the folds of the coat as he sat, taking comfort in the warmth his father had left in the material.


	5. Little Things

_wow. the hohenheim and ed fluff bunnies are out-breeding the angst. what happened to my beloved angst! -fireun_

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It wasn't that he wanted to be near the old man. Not at all. It was just that he was more than a little homesick, a completely understandable emotion when one had been shunted off into an alien world where nothing worked quite right. Thus, it was perfectly natural to inch towards any sort of familiarity.

At least, that is how Ed justified scooting a bit closer to the reclining form of Hohenheim. There was only so much space on the couch, and initially Ed had wanted as much of it as possible between his father and himself. Eventually though, the warmth of the fireplace, combined with the occasional muttered arguments Hohenheim would have with the book he was reading managed to hit just the right buttons, to remind Ed of being very small, and, well, the idea of being closer to the other man just seemed more appealing.

Which prompted Ed to stretch, and somehow in the midst of that movement, end up just a tiniest bit closer to Hohenheim. Hohenheim, in turn, was very thankful he could retreat behind his book, effectively hiding his amusement from Ed. Eyes still on his book, ignoring the fact Ed was not only about half a cushion away, Hohenheim stretched out an arm along the back of the couch with a sigh, obviously trying to relax muscles that had been cramped from holding a book so long.

Obviously.

And Ed was just as obviously interested in the contents of chapter 4, page 63 of the book Hohenheim was so avidly studying. So interested in fact that he didn't deign to notice when Hohenheim's arm relaxed its way off of the back of the couch, coming to rest gently over Ed's shoulders.

Both of them ignored the fact they were touching. It really was an interesting book, regardless of the fact a page hadn't been turned in well over twenty minutes.


	6. Lessons

_another short little ed and hohenheim snippet. they have been getting along rather well lately...i think hoho killed the angst!bunnies or something... -fireun_

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Hohenheim opened the door, hung his coat, turned to greet Edward, and stopped dead. 

Of all the things he had expected to encounter, Edward settled at the kitchen table, talking quietly to a young man who was pouring over a veritable mountain of texts had not even crossed his mind. Edward just wasn't much of a social creature.

But Hohenheim had to concede that seeing him smiling crookedly as the youth beside him tried to work out a particularly complicated bit of arithmetic, was somewhat…endearing.

Edward glanced up at him with a glare that very clearly stated 'say anything and you are so very dead' before flicking his attention back to the studious young man. Hohenheim decided that he might as well settle as unobtrusively as possible in his usual chair and relax with the paper. At least until the unexpected visitor left and he could figure out just what his errant son was up to.

"Alright, that should be enough for today, Erik." Ed declared, stretching, wincing a bit as stiff muscles groaned to life and joints popped in protest of the movement.

The young man, Erik, gathered his booked, handed Edward a handful of marks, and left with a polite nod of the head in Hohenheim's direction.

The sound of the door closing hadn't completely faded before Ed and Hohenheim both attempted to speak at the same time.

"What, pray tell, was that all about?"

"I took up tutoring."

Hohenheim blinked at a defensive looking Edward. "You what?"

"Took up tutoring." He glared at his father, ready for a fight. "Someone has to work for a living around here."

Hohenheim threw Edward completely off his track my flashing a wide smile. "You make an excellent teacher." The smile broke into a full, belly-shaking laugh as Edward flushed slightly at the unexpected compliment.

"I 'm going for a walk." He huffed, shoving his chair across the floor as he stood, irritated at his own embarrassment.

"Have fun." Hohenheim called, chuckling as Edward slammed the door shut behind him, a proud little smile on his face as he watched his son stomp off.


	7. Curfew

"You're late."

Ed twitched, pulling the door shut with a bit more force than he had intended, and turned, a grand selection of angry retorts ready on his tongue. Which all died a rather abrupt death as Ed took in the details of the tableau before him.

Hohenheim sat on the couch, in a position that would appear perfectly relaxed, if one didn't know him well enough. Ed noticed the telltale signs of the man's anxiety- the full, obviously very cold cup of coffee, the haphazardly placed books covering most of the coffee table…the fact his coat sat near at hand and his boots were on.

"Do I have some sort of curfew now?" Ed muttered, a rather uncomfortable and very unaccustomed chagrin hunching his shoulders defensively. Hohenheim remained silent, just gazed at his tardy son, a rather odd look in his eyes. Ed narrowed his own, trying to make a connection….

…._oh_.

"Shit, you were _worried_ about me, weren't you?"

Finally his father deigned answer him, straightening a bit. "And why shouldn't I?"

Ed sputtered a moment, trying to figure out if he was offended or…well..._touched_ or something.

"You're, in essence, the only family I have. Give me a good reason why I shouldn't worry when you are gone well into the night?" Hohenheim stood.

"You didn't seem to care much a couple of years ago." Ed spat, instantly regretting the outburst as a hard glint filled Hohenheim's eyes.

"Just because some of us choose not to learn from their mistakes…" Hohenheim growled.

It was one of those moments Ed remembered just how…_big_ his father was. And how good at looming…

Ed must have appeared as intimidated as he felt, for Hohenheim appeared to…well, deflate into something less imposing. With a sigh he scratched the back of his head. "I really don't want to fight right now. Can we save this for a more decent hour, perhaps tomorrow over breakfast?"

"Eh…that's alright." Ed muttered, unconsciously mirroring his fathers nervous scratching.

Caught at a sort of impasse, father and son stared at each other. Hohenheim caught the mirrored actions a second before Ed, and chuckled quietly, inspiring a truly daunting glare from his son. Raising his hands in self-defense, Hohenheim cut the chuckle back to a crooked smile. "Well, I am going to get some sleep."

"It's past your bed time, old bastard." Ed grumbled. "I am not tired."

"Why don't you have some warm milk? It will help you sleep."

Hohenheim ducked into his room just in time. Baiting Ed was all well and good, but he did want to live to see the morning…


	8. Papa

_here there be angst. _

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Ed brewed coffee with the partial awareness established through habit, and sat down at the table to wait.

It wasn't the necessary morning caffeine injection he was waiting for. It was the same sort of waiting that had him sitting beside his mother's grave so many years ago, the sort of waiting that had no attached expectation. It was a dull lethargy, familiar and sour and he hated it.

The morning paper landed with a thud against the door, delivered as it always was according to the desire of an esteemed member of the community. The hollow sound, combined with the heady aroma of dark coffee pulled Ed from his reverie, made his scowl deepen.

"Bastard old man." He snarled, hauling the door open. The door hadn't done anything to deserve his ire, but Ed slammed it shut behind him as he reentered, paper in hand.

Ed poured a cup of coffee and hunkered back down at the table, glaring balefully at the empty chair across from him. It was wrong, unbalanced. That chair was never empty in the morning, and he never got to read the paper first. It was the faint hint of a hated perfume in the air that did him in. It traced its way through coffee fumes, and the remains of last night's supper to reach out and taunt his nasal passages.

He detested that smell. Loathed it…

But right then, as he felt tears sting his mutinous eyes, he wanted nothing more than to be able to glare at the perfumes source…well, really he wanted to be hauled close in strong arms and told it was going to be alright, that he was not alone.

But, even as the coffee grew cold and his good leg fell asleep from inactivity, no one came through the door, sat in the chair, and smiled that familiar crooked grin. No one told him it was going to be all right.

"Papa…"


End file.
